So I took a two day hiatus from writing about anything wedding related and, as a result, you lucky readers were informed of my passionate love for Aaron Rodg…err I mean, Packer football and my frustration with my upstair neighbors’ grandchildren (or who I assume are grandchildren because it would be really strange if they were the ones actually running marathons around their aparment…I picture that being done naked if that were the case…and now I need to stop talking because…ew). 

Anyhow, I now deem Sundays to be the official day of rest for this wedding business, in which I’m allowed to talk about whatever the hell I feel like.  It’s my blog, so I’m allowed.  See how I can do that?  You start your own blog and you can get all power-trippy, too.

So back to common ground.  Weddings.

And I’m super psyched to talk about this aspect of my wedding – my officiant.

Tony and I aren’t very religious.  This is very touchy ground for just about everybody so we aren’t getting into it here on this blog…at all.  You write a snarky or preachy comment about that and poof your comment is now gone.  Again with the power trip, but that’s how it goes.  Anyhow, I wouldn’t normally lay out our beliefs to be picked through and sorted by all of the internet, but I feel it explains why we struggled with who would officiate our wedding.

His parents had (still have) a difficult time accepting that we won’t be married in a church or by a religious official.  I completely respect their opinions as well as their beliefs so I think I might go with an idea my cousin Margaret suggested.  I may ask them or someone they’re close with to read a favorite religious passage.  Awesome idea, Margaret (who is also a cheeky bride-to-be, too!  Yay!)

So that’s done.  But that leaves us back at square one – nobody to marry us.  Have you ever googled “Justice of the Peace?”  Try it.  It’s confusing.  What is a Justice of the Peace anyway?  Did I just sound totally blonde when asking that? (And does adding “totally” in the last sentence just confirm that, “yes, yes you did just sound blonde.”?)

So, my little hamster started spinning on his wheel and I got to thinking of a solution for this dilemma.  And as I thought, it dawned on me.  Carol!  Aunt Carol!

Let me start off by telling you who my aunt Carol is. 

She’s the aunt that used to push the twin beds together in my grandparents’ basement and jump on the mattresses with me.

She’s the aunt who I flew down with my cousin Sarah to see in Fort Lauderdale when I was just an awkward pre-teen.  I remember eating lots of peanut M&M’s, playing cards and laughing as she helped Sarah and I write a fake letter home telling our parents how we got tattoos and ran off with a motorcycle gang.

And she’s the aunt who took me to Paris the day after my 21st birthday.  I learned all about wine (though I’m not sure how much of the information she passed along stuck), ate incredible food and spent a week getting to hear all the crazy family stories that had been kept from us kids.  Ha.  It was a fantastic experience!

So when it dawned on me that Carol has her license to marry people I felt like something clicked.  It means so much to me that she agreed to marry the two of us.  And it’ll be nice to see a calming face as I walk down the aisle to a nervous groom…

Thanks Carol – we both appreciate your generosity – I’m seeing an awesome bottle of Champagne in your future 🙂

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